


far from the gutter, far from the pew

by herax



Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Assault, Slavery, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:41:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26949157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herax/pseuds/herax
Summary: During a refuelling stop on the way to Bogano, the Mantis undergoes a standard imperial inspection. It doesn’t go well.
Relationships: Cere Junda & Cal Kestis
Comments: 8
Kudos: 64





	far from the gutter, far from the pew

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'collars' prompt. No explicit rape/non-con but I figured better safe than sorry re. tags.

“Shit.”

Mid-inventory of their supplies, Cere looks up at Greez’s curse. “What’s the-”

Her gaze travels past his position in the cockpit to the fuel port outside. “ _Shit_.”

She moves down to the cockpit alongside him and hears the new thump of footsteps as Cal comes running out of his quarters, lightsaber igniting. “What happened? Did they find us?”

“They will if you keep waving that thing around like a glowstick,” Greez mutters, and Cal shuts it off as he joins them. “Empire are in town. Looks like they’re running checks here now.” He scrubs a hand across his face. “Fuck, I thought Vallt was gonna be clear.”

“Are they looking for us?” Cal asks, and Cere can hear the fear in his voice. “Do they know I’m here? Are the inquisitors-”

“No,” Cere cuts in. “We’d know if the inquisitors got ahead of us. These just seem to be regular troops running cargo checks.”

She looks from where pairs of stormtroopers are inspecting the ships on the dock to where Cal is hovering next to her. His face is pale, the lightsaber is clutched tight in his fist, and she honestly can’t tell whether he’s about to bolt or to run out and die fighting.

“Can we go?” he asks. “Just take off before they get to us?”

“Oh, sure,” Greez says. “That’d be a fun gamble: do we die to their anti-aircraft guns or do we die floating in space without any fuel.”

“Should I hide?” Cal asks. 

The helpless panic in his voice brings back vivid memories that cling on even as Cere shakes her head. “No. They’ll scan the ship — it’ll pick up any sign of life.”

“What do we do?” He bites his lip, eyeing his lightsaber again. “I don’t think I can fight all of them.”

“No fighting,” Cere agrees, then looks to Greez. “We’ve managed to lie to them before.”

“Yeah, but that was when we didn’t have one of the Empire’s most wanted hanging out in our engine room.” Greez glances at Cal. “No offense, kid.”

Cal nods, squaring his shoulders. “I can run? I know you got me off Bracca to help you but if I’m just putting you in danger-”

“No,” Cere says, sharper than she intends. “I didn’t spend all this time hunting for a Jedi just to lose you on a fuel stop. Maybe we can disguise you? Something unobtrusive?”

Greez tilts his head, eyeing Cal up. “I got one idea,” he says eventually, “but I don’t think you’re gonna like it, kid.”

———

For disguises cobbled together in less than fifteen minutes, Cere thinks they’ve done a decent job.

Her own disguise is perfunctory at best — she puts on the one dress she owns, a fond relic from a past dalliance, and wraps a purple scarf around her head. Between her outfit and the surprisingly jazzy gold suit and pants Greez finds in his wardrobe, they look passable as the owners of a luxury yacht like the _Mantis_.

Cal is a different story. Between the two of them, they work grease and soot into his hair until the vibrant red becomes a ruddy brown and he’s left with dirt stains all over his hands and face. 

With his scrapper’s uniform and lightsaber hidden away, they dress him in Cere’s most worn and ragged tunic. It’s too short, the hem barely reaching mid-thigh, but their hurried attempts to get either Cere’s or Greez’s pants to fit him end in failure.

Nevertheless, the disguise is a good one. Combined with his skinny frame and the recent bruises from the fight on Bracca, Cal makes a very convincing slave.

“It won’t be for long,” Cere promises. 

Greez has retreated to the cockpit to conceal the data on their previous travels and so she’s left to put the finishing touches to their while they wait for the troopers to arrive. “You can go back to your regular clothes as soon as we’re airborne again. We’ve had these inspections before — they just want to check we aren’t carrying illegal cargo.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before,” Cal says but his smile is tight and forced. His gaze lingers on the shortened belt Cere carries and he tenses when she steps forward. “I- Do we need that?” 

“I don’t know,” Cere admits. “I’m not exactly up to speed on slaveowner protocols. Most of the slaves I’ve seen have been collared though — better safe than sorry, right?”

Cal gives a reluctant nod but the tension doesn’t leave him even as he bares his neck for her to apply the makeshift collar. It’s thicker than it should probably be, designed for a waist, not a neck, and she feels the tremor run through Cal’s body when she buckles it in place.

She does her best not to think about what might have happened to him previously to provoke that kind of reaction.

Cal jumps at the thump on the door of the ship and Cere gives his shoulder a squeeze as one trooper calls, “Open up! Inspection, by the authority of the Empire.”

“It’ll be okay,” Cere promises. “Just stay in here. They’ll want to see you but hopefully they won’t look too closely at a slave.”

Cal nods, face ashen beneath the dirt and grime, and he settles on his knees on his now-covered meditation circle while Cere goes out to greet the troopers with Greez.

“I hope this isn’t like that stop on Lothal,” Greez is muttering as he ushers the troopers inside. “The idiots there spent twenty minutes inspecting my shampoo. My shampoo! Like looking this good is a crime.”

Smiling, Cere intervenes, “What my business partner is trying to say is that we appreciate your time, officers.”

The taller of the two troopers heads straight for the cockpit to begin his inspection but the shorter hangs back with Cere and Greez as he asks, tablet in hand, “Names please.”

“Calla Kreh,” Cere says smoothly, then nods to Greez. “This is Budel Slas.”

The trooper nods. “And what brings you to Vallt today?”

“Oh, the scenery,” Greez says sarcastically. “I love looking at walls of snow all day.” The trooper tilts his head and Greez clarifies, “We’re just here for fuel, pal. Once she’s loaded up, we’ll be on our way back to Mygeeto.”

Apparently satisfied by the cockpit, the taller trooper works his way down the room, checking in every storage compartment and locker.

“You carrying any goods with you?” the shorter one asks. “Weapons, produce, merchandise?”

“Just provisions,” Cere says. “There’s a slave back in the engine room and a couple of boxes of cooking supplies below deck. Yachts like this aren’t ideal for hauling cargo.”

It’s hard to read a reaction with the helmet covering his face but the trooper doesn’t seem fazed by the mention of a slave and Cere’s reminded once again that the Republic is long gone.

The taller trooper finishes checking through the kitchen cabinets and strolls down the hallway. Cere hears the whoosh of doors open and closing as he goes through each room in turn and she tries to ignores her growing unease as he gets closer to where Cal is stationed.

“Where did you travel from?” the other trooper asks. “You said you were on your way to Mygeeto?”

“Be nice to get there some time this year,” Greez grumbles, apparently very comfortable in his role as an inconvenienced traveller, but he holds his hands up when the trooper turns to face him. “Yes, yes, we’re on our way to Mygeeto. Just came from a meeting in Vernid. Waste of time if you ask me — you guys should be interrogating the jerks there who promised me a high quality investment opportunity and tried to pawn me off with a pile of junk.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, sir,” the trooper says, sounding anything but. “I need to take a look at your travel logs, just to verify.”

“And then you’ll send people to Vernid to scare those jackasses back into line?” Greez says, stepping away from Cere and motioning for the trooper to follow as he heads towards the cockpit. “You know, I bet they’re fiddling their taxes too. They seemed the type…”

The trooper sighs quietly behind his mask and Cere hides a smile as he follows Greez to check the logs. Cere moves to go after them but freezes when she hears a thud from the engine room and a muffled noise of pain.

The trooper doesn’t seem to have noticed and she looks as casual as possible when she says, “I’m just going to check on your colleague. Make sure he doesn’t have any questions.”

The lack of response is as close to permission as she’ll get and she hurries down the hallway towards the engine room. 

The taller trooper steps back quickly when Cere approaches but as she rounds the corner to see Cal pressed against the wall in the corner of the room, it doesn’t take much to fill in the blanks.

“Everything okay down here, officer?”

The trooper recovers from his panic at being caught and straightens up. He’s a good few inches taller than both Cere and Cal and there’s an unnerving confidence to his tone when he says, “All seems to be in order. I was just looking over your slave — we don’t see many coming through this way.”

“The engine isn’t going to clean itself,” Cere says haughtily. “I know there were restrictions under the Republic but I’m glad to see the Empire is more pragmatic about hardworking citizens acquiring useful property.”

The trooper makes a non-committal noise as he sizes Cal up again. “Yeah, I can see how he’d have his uses.” He whistles sharply. “Turn around for me, boy. Let me get a look at you.”

Cal doesn’t look at Cere but she can feel the shame pouring off him as he steps away from the wall and turns in a slow, nervous circle for the trooper’s benefit.

The trooper whistles again, this time in approval, and doesn’t seem to care about Cere’s presence as he steps in and grips Cal’s jaw. “Nice. A bit skinny for my tastes but I’ll take what I can get out here.” 

The comments are addressed to Cere rather than Cal and she tries to tamp down on the surge of anger that fills her when Cal squeezes his eyes shut, his breath coming short and fast with panic. 

The trooper doesn’t seem to care as he glances back at her. “How much for a ride?”

Cere does a double-take. She’d scrambled together a rough backstory in her head in case of any questions about Cal’s provenance but this outcome hadn’t even crossed her mind.

“A ride?” she repeats, horrified.

“Yeah,” the trooper says. “Won’t take long, then you and the mouthy latero can be on your way.”

HIs gloved hand moves down between Cal’s legs. Cal lets out a choked cry, eyes locking onto Cere’s for a split second before he lowers his gaze again. To Cere’s surprise — _dismay? relief?_ — he doesn’t try to fight back, just keeps his arms by his sides as the trooper’s hand crawls over his too-short tunic.

“He isn’t for sale,” Cere says firmly. 

“I’m not looking to buy him permanently,” the trooper says with a chuckle. “Just let me put him through his paces and he can get right back to ‘cleaning your engine’.” His grip on Cal’s jaw tightens as he forces his head up, baring his collared throat. “I’m sure a obedient thing like you knows how to show a man a good time, right, kid?”

Cal nods as much as the position allows. “Yes, sir.” There’s worrying resignation in Cal’s voice when he looks to Cere. “Mistress…”

It’s a plea for permission rather than for help. Deep down, Cere knows that this is certainly the easier and possibly the safer option but it’s not one she allows herself to entertain for more than a split-second.

Especially not when the trooper spins Cal around, slams him hard against the wall and begins to work his tunic up over his ass.

“No,” she snaps. “I won’t authorise this.”

The trooper laughs. “Then go wait in the cockpit with your partner. Unless you want me to report that I found contraband on board? You’ll be kept in dock for hours while the droids do a full sweep.” He gropes Cal’s ass greedily. “Plenty of time for me and the rest of the squad to get some real use out of your slave.”

Cere wants to throw up.

“How much?” she says through gritted teeth.

The trooper looks back at her, head tilted, and she elaborates, “For a clean inspection certificate and clearance to depart immediately. 500 credits?”

The trooper hesitates, glancing between her and Cal, and Cere steps closer. “500 creds will buy you a hell of a lot more company than some slave. More accomplished too, I’d imagine.”

“1,000,” the trooper says, bullish, “since your slave’s virtue is clearly worth so much to you.”

“750,” Cere counters. 

It’s more money than she can really afford, especially since she has no idea how long this mission is going to take, but right now she’d pay almost anything to get this asshole away from Cal. 

The offer seems to do the trick and she exhales in relief when the trooper steps back. “Deal.”

Cal sags against the wall, turning around to put his back to the wall again, but he won’t look at Cere as she empties the chips from the purse on her belt. It’s not enough, only 625, but she passes them over to the trooper anyway as she says, “Let me get the rest from my room.”

Leaving him to count the creds, she hurries down the hallway and digs out the rest of the sum from the small stash of credits in her belongings. 

The sound of a loud thump comes shortly after she leaves and Cere goes running back, credits in hand, to find Cal on the ground, blood dripping from his split lip as the trooper stands over him. 

Neither of them offer an explanation and Cere pushes the chips into the trooper’s hand. “There. 750.”

She waits while he counts it and then pulls the tablet off his belt and taps in something. For a second, she’s worried he’s about to report them, have her hauled in on a bribery charge while they take Cal off to god-knows-where, but the trooper puts it away when the tablet lets out a quiet beep. 

“You’re all clear to depart.” He gives her a mocking little nod, the credits clanking in his pouch. “Thanks for your time, citizen. Shame we couldn’t reach a more amicable arrangement. Maybe next time, hm?”

Cere makes a mental note to never, ever stop for fuel on Vallt again but gives the trooper a tight smile. “Maybe. Have a good day, officer.”

He snorts, looking down at Cal, and lands a cruel kick to his ribs before striding out of the room. 

Cere’s hands curl into fists but with the end in sight, she forces down her fury and follows the trooper out to where Greez and his partner are waiting by the door.

“All clear,” the taller one says. “They’re good to depart.”

The shorter one just nods. Greez shoots Cere a questioning look and Cere manages a miniscule head shake as the ramp of the _Mantis_ extends to let the troopers depart.

“The Empire appreciates your cooperation,” the taller one says, and Cere can hear the smug smile in his voice. “Have a safe journey and we look forward to seeing you on Vallt again.”

“Of course,” she says through gritted teeth. “Thank you for your time, officers.”

The air that blows into the ship is icy and Greez shudders as he hurries to raise the ramp again as the troopers depart. 

“Well,” he says, exhaling in relief, “that could’ve gone worse.”

The worse option is still playing in Cere’s mind when she says curtly, “Just get us out of here, captain.”

It’s probably a testament to how unhappy she looks that Greez doesn’t offer any kind of smart comeback. “Aye, aye,” he says. “One direct trip to Bogano, coming right up.”

They part, Greez heading for the cockpit while Cere makes a beeline for the engine room to check on Cal. The guilt of forcing him into that role is already a weight in her stomach but it’s her own stupid naivety that gnaws at her the most. She’s spent enough time on the fringes of the galaxy to know how greed and power can manifest but she was still dumb enough to be blindsided by the trooper’s intentions.

Cal’s sitting on his bed when she approaches, blood still trickling from his lip as he struggles to get his collar unfastened, and he jumps when Cere knocks on the doorframe.

“Sorry,” she says. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

The silence that follows is awkward, and as Cere fumbles for a follow-up, she’s conscious that she and Cal have still only just met. She may have saved him from almost-certain death at the Empire’s hands on Bracca but delivering him up to be assaulted by a predatory trooper doesn’t exactly build trust.

“Here,” she says, entering the room but waiting for his approval to move in any closer, “let me help get that off?”

There’s a flicker of nerves on his face but the desire to be rid of the collar apparently wins out over the desire for personal space and he nods, lifting his head to let her access his throat.

There are red marks on his jaw from the trooper’s grasping hand and Cere swallows down her guilt as she works on unbuckling the leather belt. 

“I’m sorry about what happened,” she says quietly. “I didn’t know they would try something like that. I wouldn’t have put you in this position if I’d known.” Blood drips from his chin to her hand and she asks, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Cal says quietly. “It would’ve been worse if they knew I was a Jedi. It was the right call.”

He sounds older as he talks, despite looking excruciatingly young beneath the dirt and blood on his face, and once again Cere struggles to work out exactly how old her latest charge is.

The collar falls away and Cere tosses it into the trash as Cal’s hand comes up to his throat. 

“You should’ve just let him…”

Cal’s words are barely more than a whisper and when Cere looks over to him, she’s not sure Cal even realises he’s spoken.

“Let him?”

Cal shrugs, his gaze distant and his lips curving in an empty smile. “That was a lot of credits. He-” He shakes his head. “I’m not worth that much, trust me.”

Cere’s mouth opens and closes as she takes in what’s Cal’s saying. However, he’s on his feet before she can find the right words to explain that no amount of credits is worth him getting treated like that.

“Cal, I-”

“I’m gonna go shower.”

They speak at the same time and Cal grimaces when he runs a hand through his hair, only to come away with it coated in grease. 

“I need to get cleaned up before we get to Bogano,” he says. “Am I okay to use the ‘fresher?”

If she’d known him more than a day, Cere might have pushed the issue but as it stands, she takes the coward’s way out. “Sure.”

Cal’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks.”

With one last swipe at his bleeding lip, he slips out into the refresher and Cere sinks to a seat on the bed with a sigh. 

The _Mantis_ hums around her, engines gearing up for the jump to hyperspace as Greez maneuvers his way off Vallt, and Cere tries to focus her mind on the task ahead. It’s not easy to shake off the thoughts though, and while the image of the stormtrooper standing over Cal lingers in her memory, it’s Cal’s apparent acceptance of it which makes her stomach turn.

The shower runs for a long, long time but when Cal finally emerges, face flushed pink from the heat of the water, Cere doesn’t comment on it.


End file.
